


Some Would Call it Fate

by delusioninabox



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, First Meetings, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-07-09 04:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusioninabox/pseuds/delusioninabox
Summary: Azira Fell is a wedding planner. Anthony J. Crowley is a funeral director. They never would have met had it not been for one very specific act of God.





	1. A Wedding & A Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help, I've fallen into this fandom and I can't get out! But I needed a break from my novel and working on this has been a delightful interruption. I meant to write a stand-alone/single chapter fic, but...it kind of got away from me haha. So I split it up into chapters and I'm aiming this time for it to be no longer than 5 (I hope). Thank you to my friends for helping me edit this!
> 
> Not looking for critique, so please don't. This fic is for funzies only. :)

There are many things that can go wrong at a wedding. Azira Fell has, as long as anyone can remember, been abnormally lucky in his years as a wedding planner. Things had an uncanny ability of always working out, no matter the situation. Even when a bride accidentally got her dress set ablaze[1]. Azira chalked it up to always keeping one's chin up. Everyone else believed, though never aloud, that he was overdue for a disaster.

Everyone else was correct, indeed.

***

One of the few things certain in life is death. Everyone dies eventually. It can be sudden or slow. It can take a moment in the wrong place at the wrong time. But sometimes, just sometimes, a death is both considerably deserved and follows a series of events so specific that one may even consider it inevitable. The sort of incident that insurance can only come to label as an "act of God". No human could possibly take the blame — or credit, if you'd rather — for every factor in a death of that sort.

One such an incident would occur on a Friday morning wedding at exactly 9:47 am.

The last witch of England saw it coming. Considered making a note of it. Then reconsidered it in case doing so would accidentally prevent it. Then reconsidered it once again on account of, well, the individual being _so_ deserving of their fate that, frankly, she wouldn't mind helping it along. So she jotted a specific instruction down among her prophecies and nodded to herself that it was quite good indeed.

But Azira, born hundreds of years later and arriving that morning at 7:30 am, could not have foreseen nor known of the note. The caterer would arrive a little later, but the florists and a few assistants arrived to begin decorating the chapel. The bride and groom arrived soon after, eager to get ready and help setup the big day. Anathema Device, descendant of England's last witch and who had seen the note, held a single blue balloon[2]. Azira's face lit up when he saw them.

"Good morning future Mr. and Mrs. Pulsifer!" he said, closing his planner in his hands. "Lovely balloon. Have special plans for it? Are there more?"

"No, no, that's quite alright," Anathema replied with a smile. "Just thought I'd bring a little gift for the kids."

"Charming! We've already gotten started on the decorations. Both of you are looking wonderful already." Azira glanced back to his planner. "I have that your makeup artist and photographer will be coming shortly?"

"Yes! They should be here any moment."

"Perfect." He led them down the path to the small chapel. It was entirely made of wood, a classic design, and owned by a university's agriculture department. They rented the chapel exclusively to host weddings and other events to fund their botanical gardens. It was a great price, still somewhat private, and with great photo opportunities all around. He opened the door and gestured to the stairs down as they entered. "If you'd like to start getting ready, there's a room down the stairs to the right for you. Has plenty of mirrors and quite spacious. Can't miss it."

"I remember, thank you," she said, nodding politely before heading down with the balloon and her bag. The groom, Newton, stayed upstairs beside Azira.

"Anything I can, uh, help with?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"I was given stern instructions not to let you by any electronics," Azira noted.

"Ah, yeah..."

He closed his planner and carried it under his arm. "Luckily there aren't many for you to touch. I'm sure my assistants would love some help setting up the tables if you'd like."

Newt relaxed, thankful there was something he could do and hopefully keep his mind off his nerves. "Yeah, of course."

"Excellent! Right this way, then."

***

Azira couldn't help but admire their hard work as he checked off the final items on his list. Newt had already gone to do some final tidying up himself before the service. The caterers had arrived a bit early and helped with the tabletops. For the center pieces, they'd taken old computer parts[3] and turned them into small planters, with various wild flowers growing out and around them (for a more natural, "witchy" look which Anathema was fond of). Checking his pocket watch, it was 9:30 am. Time for guests to begin arriving, including one who would not be leaving as they came[4].

He greeted each guest as they arrived, checking them off his list so the couple would know who to send cards to later. It wasn't a long list, as the town the couple lived in was small and their social circle even smaller. First arrived a group of children who called themselves "the Them", accompanied by their parents. Anathema had warned their leader, Adam, would bring their dog[5] after insisting to her he would be perfectly well-behaved, thank you very much. Azira didn't mind. Dog was a delightfully good boy. Besides, the university had specified nothing in the rules against them[6].

An older gentleman called himself Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell came with a female companion. He was rather gruff and unpleasant. Azira wasn't sure he wanted to speak with him much longer than he must[7]. The other guests, primarily family or less interesting neighbors, tumbled in shortly after. He smiled to himself every time a guest marveled at the flowers and other homemade decorations they'd adorned throughout the chapel hall.

While most of the neighborhood had been invited as a courtesy, the members of the neighborhood watch had not. The reason was simple: they didn't like the bride or groom, and the feeling was mutual[8]. The neighborhood watch, being adept at sticking their nose where it shouldn't, of course learned about the wedding. It therefore went without saying they had to attend. After all, if the whole neighborhood was here, they had to as well in order to watch them[9]. There were three of them and another dog. Azira's mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I'm sorry," he said to the man. "I'm afraid you can't bring your dog into the chapel.

The man snorted and pointed over his shoulder. "That Young boy got his in there. I know he does! Always bringing that mutt with him everywhere he brings trouble!"

Azira winced. Oh dear. He replied, "Ah, yes, well, that dog...er, Dog was invited." He waved a hand down to his guest list. "Maybe I missed you on the list, Mr...?"

"Tyler," he said. "Ronald P. Tyler." He picked up his small dog. "This is Shutzi." Nodded to his left. "My wife." Then to his right. "And Nancy Ainsley."

Azira scanned the list, humoring them, even though he knew they weren't on the list. "Ah," he said at last. "I'm afraid I don't see any of your names..." Nancy shoved herself forward and placed a hand over the list, glaring him down. Azira met her gaze like a terrified deer in the headlights. "Um...?"

"Listen, hun," she began. Azira furrowed his brows. _Hun?_ She stepped forward and Azira instinctively moved back. "We have as much a right to be here as the rest of the neighborhood, and frankly I am _insulted_ they would exclude us. We have done nothing to them. _They_ on the other hand have taken out the power in the neighborhood several times, get witch magazines, and loiter about suspiciously in the dark with strange occult devices."

Now having drawn a crowd at the chapel entrance, Newt turned his head and asked, "Does she mean the telescope?"

"Please don't make me call campus security," Azira said. "You're really being quite rude. This is not the time nor place to—" Nancy plucked his planner from his hands and snapped it shut before throwing it back at him. Azira flinched and stumbled further back, closer. "Goodness!"

"You can't kick us out. This here is public property," Nancy said smugly.

At 9:39 am, the first metaphorical domino fell.

Adam had received the balloon and given it to Dog to hold in his mouth.

"Good boy," Adam said. A yell came from outside.

"What was that?" Pepper asked.

"Don't know," Adam answered. "Suppose we should go look." The rest of the Them nodded in agreement.

By 9:40 am they had reached the rest of the crowd, where Nancy had reached critical rage. She was known for it. Even Mr. Tyler and his wife cowered back with their dog, suddenly considering if regretting their actions was an option. Though he'd never admit it, she was only part of the neighborhood watch so she wouldn't yell at him. Newt and Mrs. Young had come to Azira's aid, but all three shared the look of people who didn't want to be doing what they were doing.

A squirrel ran down a tree behind the Tylers at 9:41. Dog, disinterested in the human quarrel, sprinted forward. He barked, letting loose the balloon. Adam called after Dog, but no one noticed the balloon. Didn't even think about it. At least, not until it hit a powerline and exploded, raining down sparks with a loud boom. Electricity struck the tree nearest the chapel which towered over the building. A branch snapped, landing on the roof. It slid, but didn't fall off the edge. Yet.

Everyone screamed at 9:42 am, even Nancy. Azira loudest of all. Newt cried, "Wasn't me!" Nancy redirected her anger to Adam and his dog, already convinced it was his fault. Dog resumed chasing the squirrel to another tree.

Anathema reached outside at 9:43, frantic to know what was going on. Nancy remembered who she wanted to yell at again. Anathema, unlike the earlier trio, was much better at yelling back about her minding her own business. Newt stood in awe of his wife-to-be's beauty and ferocity. The photographer snapped a few photos.

The squirrel darted past Nancy at 9:44 and Dog pushed after through her legs. She stumbled closer to the chapel. Ms. Ainsley erupted into another bout of finger pointing and shrieking, stalking towards the crowd. Everyone retreated appropriately inside. The squirrel sprung up the side of the chapel. Dog barked one final warning and jumped at the wooden pillar several times. _Thump, thump, thump._ The branch inched further over the edge.

Azira had truly had enough of this by 9:45.

Emotions getting the better of him, he yelled, "You're being quite a dastardly woman, ruining these good people's special day! Not very neighborly at all of the _neighborhood watch_. I say!" With a stomp of his foot, the branch atop the roof teetered on the edge, peering over the ledge where the cross stood upright above the entrance. Ms. Ainsley advanced, not knowing she placed herself at the perfect angle below.

A lot happened at 9:46. Nancy called Azira an insulting choice of words that he didn't even hear as everyone had begun yelling at once. The noise inside reverberated in the tall entrance way, shaking the very walls. The chapel wasn't sure how to feel about any of this, honestly. It'd been such a nice day so far.

Nancy cut through their shouts with a threatening, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer about this! This won't be the last you hear from me, you damn witch!"

But it would, for the trembling chapel loosed the branch from the roof, sending it tumbling straight into the chapel's proud imposing cross.

And at precisely 9:47 am, the cross fell and crushed Nancy Ainsley as if God Herself was telling her to "shut it". It fell without subtlety, the booming thud leaving a hush from everyone else as they stared on in shock. The quiet was interrupted when Adam broke into a grin and exclaimed, " _Wicked!_ "

Azira stared on in horror. "Oh," he said. "Oh dear."

Dog, being a dog, wagged his tail.

***

It was eventually decided for the wedding to continue on. Rescheduling would be a _nightmare_ , not to mention expensive, and hardly fair to the couple. So, the wedding went on as planned. Azira assured them he'd handle everything here. The university was horrified and offered a discount off the couple's bill[10]. He stood awkwardly several feet from the very dead body, praying for the authorities to hurry it on up but knowing it'd have to be at least another forty minutes given the rural location.

His head instinctively turned as a couple rushed out of the rose garden, the man holding on his wife desperately. She held a hand over her very pregnant belly and her face twisted in pain. The man waved his arm to Azira briefly as he cried, "Excuse me! Help!" They were too preoccupied with their own emergency to notice the corpse several feet away. Azira scrambled over, purposely placing himself to block the scene from their view.

"Oh dear," he said, eyes wide. This was turning into _quite_ the day. "Is she...?"

"Going into labor," he breathed. "Yeah." His wife let out a pained cry.

"Oh good lord." A death and now this? Azira was never going to forget this day.

"Your phone have service? Know when the next bus is coming?" the husband asked. "I can't get a single bar out here."

"Oh. Oh!" Azira took a deep breath at the same time the man's wife did, trying not to panic. "The next bus isn't until noon, I'm afraid." The man cursed. The authorities were on their way, but for a _dead_ person, not with preparations for a woman in labor. Could he really suggest she hold out for near an hour in pain? She let out another cry. There wasn't time! And he couldn't leave the body! Azira shuffled into his coat's pocket and pulled out his keys. He held them out to the man. "Take my car!"

The man stared at him. "Are you—"

"You can drive, can't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"You can't wait for an ambulance, it'll be _ages_ out here!" Azira protested. "Just — come on — look at her! You gotta go!" He shoved the keys into the man's hand and shuffled them both up the sidewalk. The man hurried with his wife, looking lost. Azira pulled out his planner, uncapped a pen, and hastily wrote his name and number on a corner and tore it off. He stopped and gave it to the husband. "Call me back for the car later." He pointed to a white sedan parked neatly in the shade. "That one's mine. Hurry along, but be safe dears, alright?"

"I — wait." The man took Azira's pen and wrote down his own information. "Just in case, yeah?"

Azira smiled. "Right, of course. Now go!"

"Thank you," the wife croaked, tears in her eye and her face red and puffy. "You're an angel."

Azira's cheeks tinged with red. "Oh, no, nonsense. What anyone would do, really."

"Not at all, mate. You're a godsend," the husband said. As they hurried over to the car he added, calling back, "We won't forget this!" Azira smiled and waved them on, watching the husband help his wife into the car. He took a deep breath and turned back to the chapel, where the fallen cross and dead body continued laying.

Well. Now he had no way home.

He pulled out his phone, which had a signal, but barely. There was only one person to call in a situation like this, though he hated to admit it. He scrolled through his contacts and hit "call". Azira practiced several lines while it ringed.

"Azira, what the hell? Aren't you in the middle of a wedding? I have a meeting in twenty minutes I still need to prepare for. You can't just-"

"Yes, I know, Gabriel. But, well, you know I wouldn't call you unless it was an emergency. And this...this is _quite_ an emergency."

***

Anthony J. Crowley splashed his face with water and ran his hands down his face. He wiped his face dry with a paper towel and stopped halfway, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. _Fuck_. His eyes were so red. He hated crying. Fuck crying. Stupid thing, eyes. He grabbed his sunglasses by the sink and threw them back on with one hand, drying his chin off with the other. He tossed the paper towel in the trash. He also hated children funerals. Kids weren't supposed to die. Fucked up and completely cruel of God, if She existed. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and headed back out into the funeral home hall.

One more service to check in on, one...Nancy Ainsley, if he remembered right. Some older lady who died in an accident no one wanted to talk about. He smirked to himself. Must have been embarrassing. They got a lot of those. A loud choking sob drew his attention to a man on a bench. The blond was dressed like a librarian from a hundred years ago and he looked... _miserable._ Crowley grimaced and pulled a clean tissue from his pocket and held it out to the man.

"Here," he said. The man sniffed and looked up, meeting Crowley's eyes. Crowley hated when people cried, especially ugly crying. All crying was ugly tho — _Oh_. This man was in no way ugly. He swallowed. The man's eyes were the clearest blue Crowley had ever seen, and his expression...well. He looked like an angel mourning a tragedy but still looking absolutely beautiful doing it. Somehow his tears made his eyes sparkle in the light.

"Thank you," the man sniffed, taking the tissue with a polite smile. Crowley nodded his head sharply and shifted his weight on his feet. The man dabbed his eyes and took a deep breath before blowing his nose. Crowley looked away uncomfortably, noting he was by the door to the Ainsley service. Was he a relative? Couldn't be a husband. He hadn't been with the rest of the family in planning. A lover, maybe? Friend? He turned back to the man, who seemed like he was trying to catch his breath. Crowley couldn't help himself from frowning sympathetically. Poor guy.

"Sorry for your loss," he said. "May I ask how you knew Ms. Ainsley...?"

The man nodded and smiled softly, eyes still moist. "Oh, well, I didn't really know her," he said. "But I was there when she died. Felt like I had to pay my respects. Awfully tragic." Crowley raised an eyebrow. There when she died? He couldn't help but get a little excited. Maybe he could win this month's pool[11].

"Didn't quite get the details on that," Crowley said. "It was an accident...?"

The man sniffled again. "The cross fell off the chapel and..." He took a deep breath. "Boom! Right on her!" His eyes were spilling tears again. "Oooh, it was awful. _She_ was kind of awful. But still...didn't deserve...that..." He grimaced. "Splat." He seemed to get lost in the memory, but then shook his head free of it and looked at Crowley with wide eyes. "But you know...you know what the _worst_ part was? It was at my wedding! Well, er, not _my_ wedding, exactly. _A_ wedding. I'm a wedding planner. I was supposed to make sure everything goes perfectly and lovely and wonderfully, and then...oooh. This cranky old lady has to come marching in and _die_ right in front of everyone. And the children!"

Crowley blinked. Processing.

"She got...crushed by a cross? At a wedding?" he repeated.

The man nodded solemnly. "Right in the middle of cursing out the bride and groom, too."

Crowley couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at his lips. "Sounds like divine intervention if you ask me." The man frowned and tsked before muttering something under his breath. Was that supposed to be a rebuke? Crowley's smile widened. "I mean, you have to admit...Cursing the spouses-to-be? Right in front of God and children? Kind of asking for it."

The man huffed and shuffled in his seat, looking like he was trying desperately to not agree. "You can't just...say things like that," he said instead. His eyes darted to the open door and back before he whispered, "Somebody could hear you!" He looked at Crowley as if seeing him for the first time. "You work here?"

"Oh, sorry. Forgot to introduce myself," he said quickly, shooting his hand forwards. "Anthony J. Crowley, funeral director." The man eyed him curiously with a furrowed brow, as if debating if he wanted to reply.

"Azira Fell," the man said finally, taking his hand. "Are you always making light of people's deaths? That seems a bit unprofessional." Crowley missed the warmth of his hand as soon as Azira pulled his back.

"Not aloud, no, not usually," he admitted. "But you get used to all of..." He gestured vaguely around the gloomy atmosphere. "... _this_ after a while. Depressing if you don't, really. Gotta keep your mood up somehow."

"Ah." He nodded to himself. "That...makes sense I suppose."

"Got you to stop crying, too," he said. At that, Azira gave him a smile. It was small and sweet, and even his eyes appeared quietly grateful. Crowley took a seat next to him on the bench, giving himself a reason to _not_ get captivated by Azira's many expressions. He didn't get out much, but that still didn't mean he should go finding dates with people at their funerals. "Funerals are a lot like weddings, if you think about it."

"How's that?" Azira's looked very perplexed. "Weddings are lots of fun. The dancing, music, cake, charming food, and eternal vows...They're like a dream. Funerals are...well. Dreadful. More like the dream is over. No offense."

Crowley grinned. "None taken. Funerals don't _have_ to be depressing. They're for the living, anyway. You know, plenty of people make requests like 'Oh, don't cry when I'm gone. Remember all the good things and play my favorite songs and have a good time.' How many people actually follow through with that though? Not many. Because they're sad, and they think funerals _should_ be sad, and wouldn't it be just be _rude_ if we were playing rock next door to another grieving family?" He snorted. "Not me. Dance away. Go nuts. Dump me in a ditch and be done with it. I'm dead, what do I care? It's all theatrics for the living to make _them_ feel better.

"And that," he continued, pointing a finger up. "And that is _exactly_ the same for weddings! Do we need to spend tens of thousands of dollars when all you really need is to sign a piece of paper? No!"

"But it's—" Azira caught himself, realizing he'd interrupted, but then defeatedly finished his thought. "But it's _nice_."

"Nice! Yes, exactly my point! The dress, overpriced everything, expensive getaways, the vows...it's just the same as doing eulogies, flowers, buying expensive caskets just to bury it and all that. It's just things we do because we think they're _nice_ and they make us _feel better_. The family feels just as better seeing an exchange of vows as they do hearing a nice eulogy. So it's the same thing, really."

Azira hummed to himself. "I never thought of it like that," he admitted.

"Most people don't." Crowley shrugged. They were quiet a moment before Crowley's curiosity got the best of him. "What happened to the wedding after that anyway?"

"Oh, we went on with it. Can't just reschedule that sort of thing."

"Around the body?"

"Oh, goodness no! What happened was outside. I stayed to wait for the proper authorities while everyone else went on without me." Crowley caught the look of disappointment on his face.

"So you didn't get to see it then? Everything you planned come to be?"

"Oh, I don't know. If it wasn't, I don't think I can bear to know. Too scared to watch the video, honestly." Azira smiled sadly. "The couple did send me a very kind thank you, though."

"I'm sorry."

"Nonsense." He raised both eyebrows. "It's Ms. Ainsley's family we should be sorry for."

"Naw, the family seemed relieved to be honest."

"Oh!" Azira looked shocked. "That's...oh."

Crowley checked his watch. "I should probably be helping them wrap up." He pulled the whole travel-sized package of tissues from his pocket and held them out to Azira. "Need any more?"

He smiled. "No, thank you, I think I'm alright now. You're very kind."

"Ugh, don't say that," Crowley replied with a groan, getting up from his seat. "I barely have my pride around this place as it is."

Azira chuckled. "I doubt that."

"You haven't met my coworkers. Sometimes I can't tell the difference between them and the bodies." Azira just smiled. Crowley's brows raised above his sunglasses. "I'm serious."

"Well, careful they don't bite you for your brains."

Crowley's mouth fell open and he stared. "Was that...a zombie joke?" The man didn't look the type to even know what a zombie _was_ [12]. Azira said nothing, but kept smiling. Crowley grinned. "You're right. They might be zombies. I better be careful." Azira laughed and Crowley found himself laughing with him. A man passing in the hall shot them a dirty look and they both sobered immediately — at least until he left through the door. Then they were chuckling into their hands like children.

"You see — heehee — what I mean?" Crowley said between laughs. "No one likes a laugh at a funeral."

"I think you made your point quite well," Azira said. Crowley swore he could see stars in his eyes. "Maybe they should. I feel _much_ better. Thank you."

"Anytime." Crowley couldn't stop gazing at his smile. Azira for his part was no better. Crowley remembered the time and broke his eyes away. "Ah, I should go."

"Ah. Right..." Azira's face fell a little.

Crowley found himself unable to move. "We're locking up after this."

"Oh. I guess I should be leaving myself, then."

The silence lingered between them between them. Before Crowley could stop himself, he blurted, "Do you want to go for drinks?"

Azira's head snapped up, surprised. "Sorry?"

"Er, it's just...you seem you could use some company still. I had a long day myself."

The bright glowing smile returned to Azira's face. Crowley's chest warmed.

"That'd be lovely."

* * *

[1] He'd warned them candles were a bad idea. Back ↑

[2] The balloon did not know it would be a key player of the inevitable incident and was, for now, much looking forward to being at a wedding. Back ↑

[3] From a collection of Things In Which Newt Had Inadvertently Destroyed. Back ↑

[4] Both dramatically and very much Not Alive. Back ↑

[5] The dog, known as Dog, was excited for the activities and would not be disappointed. Back ↑

[6] They did, however, have rules specifying about Infernally Loud Music, Outrageous Dancing, Horridly Awful Alcohol Choices, and camels. Back ↑

[7] The man apparently thought asking people, "How many nipples do you have?" was an appropriate introduction. Azira was relieved when the man's lady friend interrupted and pulled him away as Azira couldn't decide if it was ruder to answer or refuse to. Back ↑

[8] Mostly. Newt was too confused on the whole affair to actively dislike any of them. Back ↑

[9] The definition of what "neighborhood watch" did often changed to suit whatever activity they felt they ought to stick their nose in. Back ↑

[10] It was more precautionary in hopes of preventing a lawsuit, in case the cross' collapse had somehow been their fault. It most assuredly wasn't, but Azira accepted their offer nonetheless on their behalf. Back ↑

[11] Who got the "funniest death of the month" was a popular competition among the funeral home employees. Anyone "found naked and/or masturbating" almost always won. Back ↑

[12] Crowley thought Azira was the type to only read books and never see a movie. This was accurate. However, Azira would read anything, and zombies had their years of trending. Azira thought Crowley looked the sort who would enjoy that kind of thing. Back ↑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Azira thinks Crowley is unprofessional, he should meet his coworkers!
> 
> Next Chapter: Crowley can't stop alternating between being Completely Smitten and Ungodly Anxious, much to the annoyance of his coworkers.


	2. Drink It In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, SO much for the kind response to this fic!!!! ;A; I had an anxiety attack after I'd posted the first chapter tbh (b/c I am insecure AF), and all the kind comments and kudos have really blown me away. So thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well as the next to come!
> 
> Sorry for this chapter being late as well. I finished it a bit late which didn't give much time for my friends to edit, and...well, I'd rather let you read something more cleaned up than my brain dump drafts. ^^; The rest of this fic is closer to my usual writing style than nodding to the original as well. It was fun to write in that style, but also...kind of hard for me to do a whole fic in, to be honest haha
> 
> Fluff and fun ahead. ENJOY!

"...so I gave them my car," Azira said before taking a sip of his drink.

Crowley's jaw fell open. "You _what?"_

"What was I supposed to do?!" Azira cried. "Tell her baby to wait at least another forty minutes for the ambulance and share it with a — with a — _corpse?_ Honestly!" He downed the rest of his drink.

Crowley's mouth grew into a wide grin. "Are you sure you're not an actual angel?" 

Azira snorted, wishing he could see the other man's eyes. "That's what the woman said too." After a moment's thought, Azira turned smug and wiggled his shoulders proudly. "You know...they named their son after me." His pleased demeanor wilted. "Well, sort of."

One of Crowley's eyebrows quirked up. "Sort of?"

"I'd written my name rather quickly and they couldn't read it. Thought it said 'Ezra'." Seeing Crowley's face he hastily added, "It's the thought that counts! Not that far off." Crowley burst into a fit of giggles. Azira huffed. "It's not like they named him _Angel_ — which they very nearly did." Crowley couldn't stop laughing, but tried to stifle it with his hand. Azira tried to give him a scowl, but couldn't stop smiling himself. "Oh, stop!"

"I'm _so_ calling you 'angel' now." His shoulders shook from the effort of containing his amusement.

"Don't you dare!"

"Too late!" Crowley's erupted into another fit of laughter.

Azira huffed. "Well, what about you? Surely you've had to deal with..." He struggled to think of the right word. "With, uh...situations."

"Nothing like that, no," Crowley said, picking up his glass. "Mostly just a whole lot of people who don't want to be there. Sometimes there'll be a fight. Those are exciting, actually. The worst is when someone comes in to complain about what someone told us to do. All _'oh, he would have hated this.'_ and _'she would_ never _have dressed like that.'_ " He made a face and took a swig. "Yeah, well, they're dead and I'm just doing my job, so fuck off." Crowley glanced to Azira. His expression was a mix of sympathy and pity. Shit, he needed to change the topic. Crowley cleared his throat and put his glass on the counter. He rested his head on his hand to better stare at his companion. "Anyway, how'd you get home, then?"

Azira grimaced and shook his head. "I had to call my older brother. The whole drive back was...atrocious. Agonizing. Should have just taken the bus."

"Was he mad about the car?" Crowley winced.

"Oh, good lord, like I'd tell him _that._ " He looked horrified at the thought. "I told him I was too distraught to drive and I'd go back for it later." He thanked the bartender for the new drink and took a sip. "The entire drive I had to listen to him complain about me being too _sensitive_. That I should've let some _other_ poor soul watch the body because _I_ should have been doing _my_ job, and now I was _inconveniencing_ him."

Crowley decided at that moment he hated Azira's brother.

"Sounds like an asshole."

Azira made a noncommittal noise, but didn't actually disagree. After a moment of silence, Azira's eyes lit up with a thought. He smiled at Crowley. "Do you ever watch any romcoms?"

"Do I what?" Crowley choked. Did he _look_ like he did?

"Romantic comedies! They can really cheer you up after a bad day, you know. Even the bad ones. They have some really good ones on Netflix."

"I'm more of a spooky movie person myself," Crowley said. Not a lie, but tactfully avoiding the fact that he did, in fact, watch romcoms. But the only souls who knew that were his snake and his plants, and they weren't talking. Crowley glared at them sometimes just in case. Could never be too careful[1].

"There was one I watched last weekend that was absolutely charming," Azira begun. "You must watch it. The wedding at the end was rather generic, but, well, it is a movie." He paused. "I'm afraid I don't really know any, uh, 'spooky' movies."

"That doesn't surprise me," Crowley said. If anything, Azira looked the type to walk in on such a movie on accident and then run out as if it was porn. "Take it you don't watch any of those reality TV shows do you?"

" _Heavens_ no!" He looked appalled at the very thought, and Crowley moved his hand to cover his smile. "They make all these poor brides look selfish and like monsters. Truly horrible. Taking these people at a special time of their life, only showing them at their worst, and for petty entertainment...absolutely horrid." 

The next thing Crowley knew, Azira had gone on quite a long rant about why they were garbage. Finishing his drink, he decided he could listen to Azira ramble about anything forever. Somehow everything sounded like the most fascinating thing in the world when it came out of his mouth. After the next drink, he learned Azira loved books. A lot. He knew more about any single book than titles Crowley could even think to name. Probably was a literature professor in another life. By three drinks in, Crowley determined he didn't like Azira's family one bit, except for perhaps his mother[2]. By four, he knew he liked Azira himself very, very much. That would normally be terrifying, but he was too charmed to care. By five he didn't want the night to end. He prayed Azira didn't either.

But it did.

Crowley walked out of the bar like a snake waking up to find it had legs, but Azira seemed to be doing just fine. Why wasn't Azira as sloshed as he was? Crowley wondered if angels could get drunk. That just wasn't fair[3]. He leaned on Azira's shoulder for support and nearly missed.

"Do you need a cab?" Azira asked, pulling out his phone.

"Naaaaw," Crowley drawled. "I can, uh...walk. From here." He waved a hand towards down the street, though it came out as a rather floppy motion. "Not far."[4]

Azira frowned at Crowley's inability to stand still. "Why don't I walk you?"

Crowley looked at him like he couldn't quite tell where exactly his head was[5]. "It's a'right," he said. "I'm —" He blinked, losing his train of thought. "— uh, good." Azira huffed and put a hand on his back. _Oh, that was nice._ Crowley wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand.

" _Please_ ," he said. "I insist. This way?"

"Yeaaaah."

He walked — if it could be called that — but they managed to make it down the next two blocks. Azira's brows were furrowed the entire time, in tight concentration to get them to their destination safely. Crowley kept staring at him instead of where his feet were going. At some point Azira's face flushed, acutely aware of being stared at but desperately ignoring it. Crowley smiled dumbly.

"Which one is yours...?" Azira asked.

Crowley jerked, finally remembering what they were doing. "Ah. Uhhhh." His head looked around as if trying to figure where they were. (He was.) "There!" He pointed to the next building. "Thaaaat one." Azira, relieved, led him up the steps to the apartment building. Crowley fumbled with his keys, but managed to finally get it into the keyhole. "Thaaankssss," he slurred.

Azira smiled. "Do go to bed. Maybe next time you can do the talking."

"Yeaaah..." Crowley found himself once more staring at Azira's blue eyes. Even in the dark, it felt like looking into the sky on a sunny day. "That'd be nice." He couldn't stop smiling. "Do you wanna—"

"I've got to go home, I'm afraid," Azira said. "I had a lovely time."

"Oh. Okaaay." Crowley slumped his forehead against the door. "G'night and, uh...have a good wedding?"

Azira chuckled and helped Crowley turn open his door. "Go to bed," he said gently. Crowley nodded and wobbled inside.

"Night," he repeated, having forgotten he already said that.

"Good night, Anthony."

He regretted watching the door close on Azira's smiling face. It was a nice face. Very nice. He zig zagged his way to the bedroom, nearly tripping over one of his potted plants, much to its horror. Somehow he made it to bed. He collapsed onto it without bothering to change his clothes and sighed. Crowley drifted asleep, still thinking of that damn smile. He giggled into his pillow.

***

Crowley hadn't wanted his coworkers to know about his night with Azira. He didn't like them knowing anything about him at all. When possible, he avoided running into them. Today was no different, except that one of the plants in the hall had disappointed him for the Last Time. It had a spot. A spot! He'd _warned_ them about spots. "Bad plants" were punished by joining his coworkers in the basement for a day or two[6]. Partly because he figured that was punishment enough, but also because he wanted them out of sight until he could take them back to his apartment.

The problem with the lower level (affectionately named "Hell") was that people working with bodies that can't talk back tended to become busybodies when someone living _did_ happen to visit. This wasn't something Crowley normally had to worry about. Normally. But it turned out Hastur had a friend who worked at the bar and seen him there[7].

"You're an idiot," Hastur said with a toothy grin.

"They're _both_ idiots," Bee said with a snort, scanning across a shelf of lipstick options.

"We were drunk!" Crowley protested. "I have a shit memory when I'm drunk."

"Shit enough to not get the number of the guy you hooked up with?" Hastur replied, grin still splitting his face.

"Hook up? We didn't hook up! We were just...hanging out," Crowley said.

"Right," Hastur said. Still smiling too, damnnit.

"Idiots," Bee repeated. They sighed and plucked up two shaded of lipstick. They held both by a deceased woman's face. "Russian Red or Pink Nouveau?"

"Russian," Crowley said at the same time Hastur went with, "Pink." They looked at each other.

"She's not going on a bloody date," Hastur said.

"Look at the photo! She was obviously a bold and confident woman," Crowley retorted, nodding his head towards the framed photo on the counter the family had given them. "And the dress?" He waved a hand to the low-cut black dress on a hanger behind Bee. "I think we all can agree modesty has been long out of the picture."

"Hm. Right." Bee dropped the Pink Nouveau back into its holder on the shelf. Crowley gave Hastur a smug grin. Yet another victory.

Hastur rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he grumbled. He grabbed the wrinkled arm of the body he was supposed to be embalming and waved it at Crowley dramatically. "You. Still. Fucked. Up."

Crowley groaned and turned on his heels.

"Just _google_ him, like every other bloody person with a crush," Bee said. "He had a weird ass name, right?"

"I don't—" Crowley stopped at seeing both of their self-righteous faces. Forcing his voice lower, he said, "I did, but only found his profile at the group he works for. I'm not going to call his job just to get his number. That's crazy. Crazy people do that, right?"

"You already are," Bee muttered.

"No, it's easy. Fake a wedding. Call up pretending you're marrying Bee and want him to plan your special day—"[8]

"NO!" Bee and Crowley yelled together. It was definitely the worst idea they'd ever heard. 

Bee waved a hand dismissively at Crowley. "Stop moping around down here if you're not going to _do_ anything. Some of us actually have shit to do."

"Yeah, exactly. Busy." Hastur kept waving the dead arm.

"Stop that!" Crowley hissed. "If anyone sees you doing that, _I'm_ the one who's going to have to deal with it. It's disrespectful or whatever."

"Disrespectful?" Hastur repeated. "Like we ain't playing dress-up with dead people?"

Crowley sighed and threw both hands in the air. "Whatever. Fine. I'm going back upstairs, where the _normal_ living people are." He spun around and headed for the stairwell.

"Isn't anyone sane up there either!" Bee called after him. Crowley rolled his eyes. Halfway up the steps, he heard the phone distantly ringing from his office. _Shit._ He rushed up the remaining steps and down the hall — stopping abruptly before an open door to a wake to casually walk past — and then bolted, grabbing the phone off the receiver just before the final ring.

"Eden Street Funeral Home, Anthony Crowley speaking. How may I help you?" His voice came out in a winded rush and he rotated the phone from his mouth. Last thing he needed was making a client call awkward with heaving breathing as he caught his breath.

"Anthony?" 

Crowley's head snapped up. He recognized that voice. 

The voice continued, "I'm glad I caught you!"

"Azira Fell?" he asked.

"Yes, it's me! Sorry to call you on your work line. Hope you don't mind. Had a question for you," Azira replied.

Crowley's heart raced like someone had just yelled 'start'. A question? Like for his cell number? To go out another night? On a date? He cleared his throat and tried to erase those last thoughts. "Yes...?"

"I noticed how wonderful the plants were you had at the service and around the building. They really are incredibly lovely. Do you mind sharing with me who you use as a florist? I could use another good reference."

"The plants? Oh, um." Crowley bit his lip. "Grow them myself, actually. It's a bit of a hobby of mine."

"Oh! That's wonderful! You have quite a gift for it," Azira said. Crowley felt his face burn at the praise. He fidgeted, trying not to smile. "Do you only do them for your employer, or might I be able to get some occasional bouquets from you?"

Crowley blinked. No one had ever asked about the plants before. Even his coworkers. They all assumed he bought them from _somewhere_. He stuttered, "Um, yeah. Sure. Anytime."

"Wonderful!" He could hear the delight in Azira's voice and his resolve broke. He couldn't _not_ smile at the sound. "Can I have your number, dear?"

 _Dear?!_ Crowley's heart panicked. "Huh?"

"So I can call you about the flowers," Azira clarified.

"Oh. Oh! Right. 'Course." Crowley rattled off his number in a daze. Azira repeated it back and Crowley assured him it was right. "I'll talk to you again soon, then, I guess," he said.

"Of course. Last night was very nice. Thank you for the offer to get drinks. I don't know how much you remember. You were quite, well, 'out of it' as they say by the end."

Crowley grimaced. He had drunk more than he'd meant to. But it'd just been so _nice_. "Sorry about that," he said. "I don't, uh, normally drink that much on a first meeting."

Azira laughed and Crowley cursed his stomach for doing somersaults at the sound. "Don't worry yourself over it," Azira replied. "In fact, I was wondering if you'd like to do it again sometime?"

"Really?" He winced at the sound of his own voice, which came out like a rusty old bike shocked that someone wanted to ride it. Crowley's elbow missed the armrest and he nearly fell out of his chair. He hoped Azira hadn't heard that. "Cool. Yeah. I'd like that."

"Great! I need to check my schedule, but I'll let you know a night I'm available."

"Sure. Looking forward to it."

"Me as well." A pause. "Well, ah, I have to get going I'm afraid. Got a couple to meet soon. Thanks again."

Crowley suddenly remembered he was supposed to be working too. "Right. Yeah. Me too. Er, funerals I mean. To check in on and all that."

"Of course. Bye!"

"Bye."

The call was over before he knew it. Crowley stared at the phone in his hand, and then jumped when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. One text message from an unknown number.

> **Unknown:** Hello! This is Azira.

Crowley smiled and saved the number under his name. Then backspaced and wrote "Angel" instead. He grinned and spun in his chair. He couldn't wait to see him again. To talk to him again. To...wait. 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and leapt from the chair. He raced across the hall, forgetting to stop as he passed the room to the ongoing viewing, and down the stairs.

"GUYS!" he screamed. Bee yelped, accidentally drawing a line of eye shadow across the woman's face. They seethed.

"CROWLEY!" they yelled back. Hastur raised an eyebrow, watching Crowley's dramatic entrance with amusement.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." He bounced on his feet anxiously, in time with his already freaking out heart. "Quick question. How do you know if it's a date or just drinks?"

"You came down here screaming for THAT?" Bee hissed, chucking a makeup brush at his face. Crowley barely dodged it. One of the plants along the wall accidentally took one for the team.

Hastur cackled. "You're an idiot."

***

Azira found himself distracted during the entire meeting, and then miserably guilty for it after. The couple should have had his full attention. Every client deserves that much. It went fine, but...well. It wasn't his _best_. He would have to apologize to then next time. He sighed, feeling antsy about the phone in his pocket. It was strange. He never cared about his phone before. Often forgot to even carry it on him at times. Even left it overnight in the office on occasion. Yet here he was, itching to check it for text messages that certainly weren't there. What was wrong with him?

"Azira," greeted a female voice along with a knock on his door frame. He turned with a smile.

"Hello, Michael," he said. "Can I help you?"

"Rest of us are heading out early. Group dinner if you want to come." There was no emotion in her voice and her face dull with disinterest. None of them wanted him there. He knew that. But they asked every time out of fake politeness. Sometimes he went anyway if the place was good.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"The new sushi place that opened on 5th."

Azira smiled. He could always go for good sushi, even with lackluster company. He opened his mouth to reply when Gabriel joined Michael at the door.

"Oh, don't bother asking Azira. He's on a diet, you know," Gabriel said with a smile. Azira hated his smile.

Michael raised a brow. "He is?"

Gabriel chuckled. "Yes, and we're doing him a favor by not enabling him to give into temptation." He met Azira's eyes. "Isn't that right?"

"Right," Azira said automatically, as if Gabriel had put the word right in his mouth. He hated himself for it, but kept a smile on his face. It was a hard habit to break.

Michael looked relieved. "Too bad."

"We'll tell you how it is," Gabriel said with a wave. "Lock up, when you leave, will you?"

"Of course." Azira nodded.

He let his smile fall as soon they left. His eyes turned to his planner dejectedly, full of well-organized, color-coded notes and stickers. He loved his job. He really did. Yet...why was he still so unhappy? He had nothing to complain about. He had a stable job, owned by his family, and sure, he didn't get along with them and his brother was, well, Gabriel...but that had rarely bothered him before. He could go home, have some coco and a good book and forget about it.

But last night had been nice. His nights out with his family had never been like that. Azira was good at talking to people, but somehow not so good at making friends. But Anthony...he'd been incredibly easy to talk to. Azira had found himself babbling away, talking about whatever had popped in his head, and he had _listened_. Azira scanned across his schedule. Full of things to do, people to call, orchestrate, and places to be. He was busy.

And lonely.

He glanced to his phone. After a moment's hesitation, he took it and started a message before he could change his mind.

> **Azira:** Anthony, I don't suppose you're free next Tuesday night?

The reply came quickly.

> **Anthony:** Call me Crowley, angel.
> 
> **Anthony:** Yep.

Azira smiled. He'd certainly kept to his own joke.

> **Azira:** There's a sushi place that opened just down the street from my job if you'd like to try it with me.
> 
> **Crowley:** I'd be honored.

Azira realized his heart was beating faster and panicked. What was he doing, getting worked up over a small thing like this? It had been just one night of drinks. Now one dinner. It was what other people do all the time. It's not like it was a date. Oh, god, it wasn't, was it? What was he thinking? He didn't need a _boyfriend_. He just needed a friend. _A friend_ , he repeated to himself firmly.

* * *

[1] It was less that romcoms didn't suit his image and more his embarrassment over crying at the end every time. He also cried at dog movies. The dog didn't even have to die. It just had to show up and next thing you know he's eating out of a tub of ice cream and yelling at his plants to stop judging him. Back ↑

[2] Crowley assumed this must be whom Azira took after considering the rest of them sounded pretentious and the type of clients who would tell him how to do his job. Back ↑

[3] We know, of course, they can. The simple truth is Azira had been talking more than drinking while Crowley had earned master proficiency at listening with a drink constantly in hand. Back ↑

[4] Sober Crowley had fortunately had the foresight to pick a place within walking distance of his apartment so he wouldn't need the car. Back ↑

[5] He couldn't. Back ↑

[6] The plants thought Crowley was terrifying. Sometimes they even shook, though it may have been the air conditioning. Regardless, they left thinking maybe Crowley wasn't so bad and a better appreciation for being alive. Back ↑

[7] That Hastur had friends was a shocking revelation in itself, but he wouldn't name names, so Crowley was forced to resolve to never visit that bar ever again. Back ↑

[8] On the other side of town, Azira was having a similar idea, but one which was actually pretty reasonable if you thought about it. Azira had. Back ↑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/delusioninabox) and [Tumblr](https://delusioninabox.tumblr.com/) as @delusioninabox <3 Feel free to check-in with me on the fic status if I'm dawdling again!!! Next chapter is already written, so hopefully it won't be as long a wait.
> 
> Next Chapter: Azira and Crowley are both idiots, and worse, the same kind of idiot.


	3. In Which a Lot of Assumptions Are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azira and Crowley are both idiots, and worse, the same kind of idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two months since I updated this fic and I am SO embarrassed and sorry about that. 😬💦 Life has been really busy for me between work and having a baby on the way, but I'm going to try my damnedest to finish the last two chapters before she's born in December. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE!!!!!!! 🙏
> 
> But now I'm back on my bullshit with the dumbest idiots.

Azira had never felt time drag so slowly in his life. What was wrong with him? He rubbed his hands together anxiously. Just because he hadn't had an actual friend in ages...and they weren't friends yet. Just...potential friends. Oh, but he wanted to be friends _very_ much. He couldn't stop thinking about their night at the bar. Or their texts. Crowley seemed to be a proficient texter. His messages were random and sporadic throughout the day, often sharing whatever thought that popped in his head and sometimes answering his own questions hours later.[1]

But sometimes he would ask something benign that would then turn into a philosophical debate between them. Azira wasn't even sure how it happened half the time, but he loved every message between them. Crowley had a different view on things, which he shared directly and honestly. It was refreshing. Not like his family and colleagues who smiled off issues and skirted around uncomfortable topics.

When his phone buzzed, Azira flashed the screen on faster than he ever had in his life.

> **Crowley:** Do you like memes?

Azira furrowed his eyebrows. He knew the word, but...that part of the internet wasn't exactly his area.[2]

> **Azira:** What's a meme?
> 
> **Crowley:** r u serious
> 
> **Crowley:** i can't
> 
> **Crowley** : just
> 
> **Crowley:** here

It was a picture of a man looking contemplative, overlayed by the same photo facing different directions in different opacities. Text above the photo read: "When you're at a cake tasting and you want more free samples, so you act like you're not sure what sample you like."[3] Azira smiled.

> **Azira:** Very funny.
> 
> **Crowley:** I think you mean l-o-l
> 
> **Crowley:** I will send you more now 😈

Azira prepared to write a response when his phone began ringing in his hands. He nearly dropped in with a startled, "Oh!" Upon reading the name, he answered at once.

"Ms. Device! I mean, Mrs. Pulsifer!" he exclaimed. "How was the honeymoon? All good, I hope. I'm so sorry about Ms. Ainsley, and the wedding and—"

"Azira—"

"—I don't even know how that _happened_ , and it shouldn't have. I've never in my life had something like that happen before. The poor kids, too, having to see that—"

"Azira!"

"—I can't even think how to make it up to you both—"

"AZIRA!" Anathema yelled. Azira shut his mouth. He heard her let out a sigh. "I was just calling to _thank_ you."

"You...you were?"

"Yes! I know, what happened to Ms. Ainsley was...something. But it wasn't your fault. How could anyone have possibly known that would happen?" Anathema assured him, very successfully pretending to not know about the note she had read beforehand[4]. "Honestly, the wedding was gorgeous. Everything was perfect, aside the obvious. And our honeymoon was wonderful too, thank you for asking."

"Oh. Oh!" Tension he'd been holding in his body for over a week flooded out of him. "That's good to hear. Thank goodness. I was so worried."

"Yeah, I could tell," she said, an amused hum in her voice. "I feel like I need to apologize to you. You were the most upset of all of us."

"It's alright," he said.

"You sure?"

"I admit I was rather, well, distraught, but...better now, thank you. I went to her wake and the funeral director helped me feel a lot better about the whole thing. Very nice man." Something in the tone of his voice drew her attention.

"Oh, really?" Anathema was very curious now. She'd asked him about his own love life months ago and Azira had insisted he was quite fine on his own. But...he seemed quite a romantic for someone happy to be alone. "Someone special?" she asked innocently.

"You could say that, I suppose," he said. He'd always rather liked Anathema, and hoped they could be friends after she stopped being his client. She was easy to talk to, and as someone married, she probably knew relationships better than him after all. He smiled to himself. "We've been... _texting_." He said it like it was something scandalous, which made Anathema laugh.

"Oooh, _texting_ ," she teased. "How progressive of you."

Azira pouted. "It _is!"_

"So, friend or...crush?"[5]

Azira could picture her quirked eyebrow over the phone. "We're...well, I don't know. We only happened to go out once." Before her inevitable response, he added, "NOT a date! Just drinks. We're going out again on Tuesday." Although...he'd gone and made the second one _dinner_ , hadn't he? That was...oh dear. No, it was fine. Friends do dinner all the time.

"And...?"

"And nothing!"

"You sound awfully flustered for 'nothing'."

"Yes, well...I'm sure he's taken anyway." No way a charming, handsome man like that couldn't be. He glanced down at himself and frowned. Even more likely someone like Crowley would find him attractive. He frowned. "So it doesn't matter."

"You don't even know that for sure, do you?"

"...No."

"Then ask next time!"

"I can't just...It's too soon! You can't just...ask out a _stranger_."

"Um, yes you can. People do it all the time. Don't you remember how Newt and I met?"

Azira huffed. "Well, _I_ can't. Need to know them better first. Drop some hints. And then…" He took a deep breath. "If they're interested, they'll say something."

"Oh my god," Anathema said. "You always wait for someone else to ask?"

"Of course!"

"This is why you're single."

"What? I can't ask! It's...oh, just thinking about it is making me anxious."

"Gotta take a chance, Azira. Just like everyone else. We _all_ get anxious."

"Not like me," Azira grumbled. "I'll make a fool of myself."

"Of course you will," came a laughing voice. Azira's head snapped to the door. His stomach fell in the pit of his stomach, all too familiar with the tone.

"Gabriel!"

Gabriel crossed his arms. "Taking personal calls at work? Tsk tsk, Azira Fell." 

Azira winced. How was it that even as grown adults his brother still had the ability to make him feel like he was in trouble? They were long past the days of tattling on one another, yet somehow Azira's nerves reacted as if their father was already on his way to yell at him.[6]

"Sorry Anathema, dear, I have to go," he said. "Please, feel free to stay in touch. Bye!" Anathema barely got the chance to respond before Azira turned off the call. "Sorry, Gabriel. Was catching up with a client and got a little sidetracked."

"Well, if you have time to dilly dally, I have another one for you."

"Another...?" He dropped his gaze to his planner. "Gabriel, I'm already quite booked up right now. I don't think I can take on another couple—"

"You saying you can't handle it?" His disappointment was obvious. "I had so much faith in you." That was over-the-top. Azira knew he didn't. But per tradition, if Gabriel didn't think he could do it, Azira felt obligated to prove him wrong. Or, at the very least, try.[7]

"No, I didn't say that..."

"So you'll take it?"

Azira sighed. "Yes, of course." Gabriel handed him a folder full of details. "Thanks."

"Of course! I know how much these types are your favorite."

Azira said nothing. 'These types' meant anything the rest of them didn't like or approve of. He didn't mind, of course — most did in fact end up his favorites — but that didn't mean he needed to _drown_ in them. He long had suspicion Gabriel was doing this on purpose, though he hadn't a clue why.

***

Crowley was at a loss. He sat down beside a batch of his plants at the apartment window, gave them a few good mists, and sighed.

"I can't just...ask him to date me. Can I?" he asked aloud. The plants didn't respond. "Ugh, I haven't had a friend in ages, and I can't botch this before we even _are_ friends. Officially, you know. Two nights out counts as friends, right?" The plants still didn't reply. "Some help you lot are," he grumbled. He stood up and moved over to the terrarium and pulled off the lid.

"Eve, you'll help me, won't you?" He pulled the long black snake up. Her small beady eyes stared at him. She flicked out her tongue. "Please don't make me ask Bee. Or worse, Hastur. Pretty sure anything they suggest will be illegal." Eve slithered her way up his arm and across his shoulder. "Hm. Well. I could just...wait to see if he asks _me._ He is the one who called me first. And asked me number. And asked us to go out again...He even made it dinner. So at least I already know he's got the guts for it."

(This was, of course, wrong. Azira was used to calling people, and he was good at setting meetings. It's what he did most days of the week after all. Asking for Crowley's number under the guise of "for business" had been easy, but asking someone on a _date_ was another matter entirely. Drinks were not a date. And dinner...well. He'd been hungry.)

He helped Eve wrap around his neck and pet the top of her head. "It's a coward's excuse, I know." He sighed. "But I do want to be his friend, at least. So...if I just...drop some hints, and he chooses to ignore them, no harm done, yeah?" He scratched under her chin and frowned. "There is another matter, though..."

To handle "the other matter", Crowley found himself at the mall that weekend in a store known for having all sorts of hip and trendy shirts, pins, wallets, and knick-knacks. Crowley stood with his arms crossed, scanning his options. As much as he wanted Azira to ask him out, he also wanted Azira to, well, _know_ something first. He'd had enough relationships ruined over it very quickly that he'd rather avoid it altogether if he could. Unfortunately "Hey, by the way, I'm asexual, and I just want you to know, I'm _super_ into you, but not Like _That_ , and you probably want to know that before you maybe decide to date me" wasn't at all natural to bring up in any conversation.

He pursed his lips, considering an ace pride t-shirt. No...too obvious. It basically screamed "Ask Me About My Shirt" and that was much too forward for what he wanted. Especially in case Azira wasn't interested at all, which was still possible. He wanted Azira to _know_ , but he didn't want to _talk_ about it. He needed something...smaller. Subtle. An enamel pin caught his eye.

_Ace Snake._

Crowley grinned. _Perfect._

***

Crowley took a deep breath, waiting for Azira outside the restaurant. _Not a date,_ he told himself. _He would have told me if it's a date_. Not that he seemed very straight, but Crowley didn't have a good track record for knowing that sort of thing anyhow. In fact, he was usually disastrously wrong. He lit up when he saw Azira walk around the corner. He was both relieved and hurt to see him in what seemed to be his normal outdated professor style. _Not a date. He would have dressed up._ [8]

"Hey," he said.

Azira smiled back. "Glad you were available," he said. "I wanted to try this place sooner, but, ah...didn't quite get the chance. Do you like sushi?"

Crowley shrugged. "Never really gone for it," he admitted. "Always sounded...slimy. But I can try." He would have gone anywhere Azira asked.

"Oh, I do hope you love it," Azira said, opening the door. "After you." Crowley cocked a brow. He was so polite. It was ridiculous. They got a table and ordered with little fanfare. There was a lull in conversation as both tried to think of something to say. Crowley went for some sake to give himself more time to think. He clutched his glass tight in hopes it'd hide his nerves.

"No more exciting weddings, I hope," Crowley said.

"Ah, no, thank goodness," Azira replied. "And you...?"

"Eh, business as usual," Crowley answered. "Pretty consistent line of work really." Azira hummed in agreement. He wished Crowley wasn't wearing those sunglasses again. There was no way he didn't have beautiful eyes. He wanted desperately to ask about it, but it seemed rude. He surely must wear them for a reason...It was then his eyes fell to a pin on Crowley's shirt. It was a charming little snake striped with purple, white, black, and gray. It seemed in a particular order. Azira wondered if there was a significance to it. Around the snake was the text 'Ace Snake'. He smiled.

"You like snakes?" he asked, motioning a little to Crowley's pin.

"Oh, yeah! They're great," he said. Internally, Crowley was pleased that Azira had noticed, but also panicked. Did he know what the colors meant? He had to right? He remembered Azira mentioning that he'd done gay and lesbian weddings. So it had to have come up at least if he wasn't in the community himself, right? Right? He realized then he hadn't answered in a long time and added, "Er, always liked them. Bad reputation, but they're not actually scary, you know?"

Azira smiled, thinking that sounded a bit like Crowley himself. He was intimidating with his fashionable black attire, sweeping red hair, and shades...but also incredibly charming. It made sense somehow that he liked that.

"I admit I've never been inclined to pet one," Azira said. "More of a dog or cat person myself. Birds are also lovely, but I feel bad about them being caged."

"Do you have a pet then?" Crowley asked.

"No, no," Azira said. "I don't feel I'm home enough to give them the amount of attention they deserve."

Crowley nodded. "That's fair."

"You live alone?" Azira inquired innocently. He debated whether to curse himself for it or not. He had told himself several times over they were to just be friends, and here he was asking if there was anyone else in his life — albeit indirectly. Then again, that was a perfectly fine thing for friends to know, wasn't it?

It was then Crowley made a very dumb mistake.

"Just me, Eve, and the plants I'm afraid," Crowley replied.

It would have helped immensely had Crowley specified Eve was his snake.

_Eve?_ Azira took a sip of his water and looked away. A woman's name. Of course. Of course he had a girlfriend. Or a wife? His eyes darted over. No, he wasn't wearing a ring. Still. Of course he was taken. Crowley was charming and cool and, well, everything Azira wasn't. He swallowed his pride. Right. Well. Friends. They could still be friends.

"How long have you been with Eve?" he asked. Crowley noticed Azira suddenly didn't look well at all. He must not like snakes much at all. Most people don't. He smiled nonetheless. It was nice of him to still ask, even if he didn't care for them.

"Oh, two years give or take," he said. "I don't rightly remember to be honest."

Azira was grateful when the food arrived so he could finally change the subject.

***

Crowley slumped into his bed when he got home. Azira hadn't asked him out. It had gotten weird for a bit after mentioning Eve. Was it just because he wasn't a snake person or had the realization of his pin finally settled in? The rest of the night had been fine, but...Crowley couldn't get over the uncertainty he'd felt after his reaction.

He rolled over, hiding his face. Okay. So they wouldn't date. That was fine. He could still be friends. He'd still want to be friends, right? He seemed too nice to drop someone for being a snake person, and just because Azira was adorable and kind didn't mean he'd pine after him forever. He wouldn't. He'd get over it. He could be a perfectly normal friend like anyone else who doesn't have a crush.

***

Azira for his part was equally miserable. Crowley already had someone and he couldn't stop thinking about it. But he didn't want to stop seeing him because of that. It'd be...pitiful, really. He still wanted to be his friend. Why was he upset at all? He had gone with the intention of being his friend, not trying to get a date. He shouldn't be disappointed. He _shouldn't_. Azira desperately tried to will himself to believe it. When that didn't work, he picked up his current book and tried to read. This lasted only a few minutes before he put it down in a huff. He couldn't leave things like this. He had to do something.

He picked up his phone and sent a text.

> **Azira:** Same time next week? Your pick.

There. At least he was making an initiative. Being friendly. Setting a plan before he could chicken out of it and pretend they'd never met. Perfect. He'd been a bit out of sorts for the second half of the meal and he desperately hoped that hadn't put him out. Maybe next time he should drink more.

***

Crowley smiled when he saw the text. His stomach flipped — the very sort it shouldn't do when one is trying very hard to not have a crush.

"You stop that!" he groaned at himself. He slapped both sides of his face for good measure. Be cool. Be normal. Be a normal friend like normal people.

> **Crowley:** Sounds like a plan.

There. Perfect. Friendship solidified. He'd even avoided accidentally using the word "date". Azira meanwhile would have probably very much been excited if he had used the word "date". Well, he would if he also knew Eve was, in fact, a snake.

***

They meet every week. Crowley has an easy time with this as death is generally rather consistent, except for the occasional upswing around holiday mishaps. Azira has a harder time navigating around the busy seasons and his increasingly heavy client load thanks to Gabriel. But he determines to always set time aside for Crowley every week, no matter what. It keeps him sane, despite how his crush hasn't wavered. They became friends. Then best friends. They talked about everything.

Or mostly everything.

Azira, determined to be a good friend, tries his best to be interested in Crowley's apparent girlfriend Eve and ask about her on occasion. Crowley, believing it kind of Azira to ask even though he _clearly_ dislikes snakes, keeps his answers brief.

"She's fine," he'll say usually.

"Shedding this week, actually." 

Usually that gets Azira wondering how much hair his girlfriend has.

"Surprisingly cuddly yesterday." 

Azira unknowingly finds himself very jealous of a snake and Crowley notices how much Azira seems to recoil at the idea of cuddling a snake and says no more.

This goes on for a long time. An embarrassingly long time to anyone from the outside if they were to realize what was happening. But they don't, as their friendship circles are very much not the sort to interact.[9] Azira ends up becoming friends with Anathema as well. She'd been curious to hear about Crowley's girlfriend, and sorry for him that it turned out Crowley was straight.

At first.

But after a few more years even Anathema began to have questions.

"Are you sure Eve is a person?" she asked one day.

"Anathema!" Azira gasped. "How can you even say—"

"I mean," she said. " _Shedding_? That seems a weird thing to say about your girlfriend. And it's been _how_ long and he still hasn't proposed to her? Heck, he doesn't seem to talk about her much at all. You're his best friend and you've never even _met_ his partner?"

Azira shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well...that's my fault I suppose. We always go to my place if we don't meet somewhere. I...I don't know if I _want_ to meet her. I still haven't been able to...well, able to stop _feeling_ things for him that a friend shouldn't. I don't want to make it worse by showing a horrid case of jealousy or - or - pettiness."

Anathema leveled a stare at him. "Azira, I hardly think you're capable of being a jealous or petty person."

"I don't know!" Azira protested. "I've never felt this way about someone. And for so long! He's my best friend! I can't ruin it now. He...he's the best thing in my life."

"At least ask for a picture," Anathema said. "Maybe it's not even a real girlfriend and he's been lying this whole time."

"Lying! Honestly, Anathema. I think I'd have realized by now if he was _lying_ ," he said. "And goodness, why would he lie about that? And for so long?" He frowned. "Unless he knows I have a crush and is desperately hoping that'll get me to, uh, 'chill out' as you say...Oh bother."

Anathema rolled her eyes. "Ask. For. A. Photo."

"I can't! You...you don't understand! I don't think I could bear it. Oooh, I'm a bad, bad, selfish friend," he said. "If I see him looking absolutely smitten with someone else...I think it might break my heart. I won't be able to forget it."

"If she is a person, maybe that's what you need to get over him," she said.

"' _If_ she's a person'," Azira repeated with a snort. "Listen to yourself."

"How about this? Give me his full name and I'll find him on social media or whatever. I know you don't use it, but I bet I can find a photo of this Eve, if she exists, and _I'll_ tell you if he's madly in love for real or not."[10]

Azira seemed to think about it, but remained frowning. "I...suppose," he said. "You're just confirming what I know, but...if it'll get you to drop thinking Eve isn't a person." He grimaced. "Looking him up online...that seems so skeezy. He's my best friend."

"You're the one who doesn't want to ask him."

Azira groaned. "Ugh, fine! Do it before I change my mind. But when I'm not there. I don't want to see it. Maybe don't tell me anything, actually. I want no part of it. Just finally settle to yourself that she is in fact a real life person."

Anathema snorted. "Fine."

***

Crowley was having a miserable time of his own.

"I was happy for him, ya know, when he got another friend," he said. "Ana-something. Haven't met her. But now he talks to her, like, a lot. They're in a book club together even!"

Bee kicked him in the side with their foot. "Get off the floor you dramatic prick."

Crowley didn't move. "Oh god...what if they get together? They're both nerds. Nerds dressed like hundred-year-old librarians. I can't even remember the last time I _read_ a book."

"Good for him," Bee said. "A right better choice than you are."

"Yeah..." Crowley frowned at the ceiling. "I'm a bad friend."

Hastur snorted. "No, there's no way that man is straight."

"You never know," Crowley said. "I know I never do."

"Well, I heard from Ligur—"

Crowley jumped up. "Ah! So _that's_ who your friend at the bar is!"

"And you said you would never go there again, and yet..." Hastur waved an arm out. "But as I was _saying_ , Ligur told me that he's always giving little shy glances to a man."

"They make really good mixes, and their location is so convenient. I couldn't help it." Crowley frowned. "Who?"

Hastur flashed his teeth. "I dunno. How should I know?" He shared a look with Bee, who knew very well what he was up to. "Like I said, no way he's straight. So stop being depressed or whatever."

"Gee, thanks. That really helped," Crowley grumbled.

Hastur gave a mock bow. "You're welcome."

Crowley glanced to his watch and finally got himself off the floor. Time to meet another family for arrangements. He gave them a pathetic wave good-bye before heading out. As soon as he was long gone, Bee gave Hastur a fiery look.

"You're such an asshole," they said.

"Oh, like you said anything!" he snapped with a snort.

"Yeah, well, he's an idiot if he can't have figured it out by now," Bee replied.

"Exactly."

"But now he'll be down here all mopey even _more_ and we _both_ have to suffer for it."

"Ah...fuck." Hastur's smile fell flat off his face. "Didn't think about that."

"Damn right you didn't." 

* * *

[2] Azira knew how to use Google, e-mail, Netflix, and absolutely nothing else. He only knew how to use Netflix because his mother showed him how and would send him recommendations he "must watch" so they could talk about it together. Back ↑

[3] He'd never confess to it, but it was very much something Azira would do. <https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/2-5c6411ff43a28__700.jpg> Back ↑

[4] She had a lot of practice. Back ↑

[5] Most of the weddings Azira helped plan were LGTBQIA, so Anathema — like most people — assumed he must be queer himself though he never mentioned it. Had she asked Azira, the reason was simple: everyone else in the agency was much more religious, but they didn't want to turn down possible income once it was legal, so Azira found himself volunteering every time. He doubted their ability to hide their prejudices and give their best for the couples if he was feeling especially honest. After the first few, they started giving him every single one, and eventually the couples never even asked for any other planner. Back ↑

[6] This was likely because Gabriel did all of the "tattling". Azira had only told on Gabriel once and found his brother's petty retributions not worth it. Back ↑

[7] There were at least two times Azira could think of where he had just embarrassed himself terribly, especially when it came to anything needing even the least bit of athleticism. Back ↑

[8] Azira was, however, wearing one of his favorite jackets because he thought it looked best on him. Crowley did notice that last part. Back ↑

[9] There is, in fact, an overlap between their circles with two individuals, but said individuals are so content to stay on the outer edges of each respective circle that they would never notice. Back ↑

[10] To be fair, Crowley does love Eve. She is a wonderful snake. Back ↑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/delusioninabox) and [Tumblr](https://delusioninabox.tumblr.com/) as @delusioninabox <3 I write original content on my Tumblr as well if you are interested in that sort of thing. :o
> 
> P.S. You are ABSOLUTELY FREE to yell at me if I'm taking forever again agfafggdfg
> 
> Next Chapter: Azira.exe stops working, Gabriel snaps, and Crowley PanicsTM.


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